


The Peace of the Wild Things

by Jaylee



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaylee/pseuds/Jaylee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘There’s an elephant in the room’, Jim thought. It danced and sang, jumped and crept, taunting him with desires which, once outwardly acknowledged, could have the power to change things irrevocably. ~Surrounds the events of the first season episode "The Devil in the Dark"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Peace of the Wild Things

*****

 _‘There’s an elephant in the room’_ , Jim thought, remembering the old phrase his mother used throughout his childhood, usually when she’d cottoned on that he or Sam were keeping the secrets of their youth-filled mischief. Which, he remembered with fondness, was _a lot_. His mom was an intelligent woman, and there was solidarity to brotherhood, after all. Troublemakers and curious explorers were prone to unite. And one couldn’t properly explore without at least a little bit of trouble: a strange and exciting quirk of life which certainly contributed to Jim’s current predicament. _‘Though at the rate the tension is growing, and has been for months, the elephant might as well be a dinosaur.’_

He wondered for probably the thousandth time in so many months just how he was going to address this mammoth-sized _Elephas maximus_ , otherwise known as the mating dance of the emotionally stunted, which lurked in every room of his beloved ship that he and his First cohabited together. It danced and sang, jumped and crept, taunting him with desires which, once outwardly acknowledged, could have the power to change things irrevocably.

The problem was that he wasn’t quite certain those changes would be for the better.

A quick glance at his First, cool and confident at his station, didn’t conjure any answers, though it certainly didn’t _stop_ Jim from trying to find them there nonetheless. 

The sight of Spock never failed to have some sort of profound effect on him, never failed to set his pulse racing and his mind reeling. So surely expecting some sort of grand epiphany conjured forth by a glimpse of dark hair and pointed ears shouldn’t exist entirely outside of the realm of possibility? 

If Jim was to be consistently indecisive and uncertain as he’d been for months now - an absolutely terrible state for a starship captain to be in, or for anyone to be in, for that matter - he was going to get his enjoyment _somewhere_.

The sight of his First just about did the trick, as instantaneous pleasure went. It was a brutal sort of irony, insofar that irony could be brutal, that the source of his disquiet would also be the source of his comfort. But then, falling in love had pretty much always been as ruthless as it was generous, if centuries worth of literature on the subject, and his own comedy of errors, known throughout the galaxy as his love-life, were anything to go by. 

In fact, given his bollixed attempts with Ruth, and Carol, and (worse, much worse, considering how it had turned out) Gary, Jim supposed falling in love with a Vulcan whose culture disdained such a frivolous notion was a marked improvement.

As it was, any time he came close to thinking, _‘Oh, the hell with it,’_ and confronting Spock on this elephant growing between them head-on, like responsible, self-aware, adult and captainly men were wont to do, he remembered Spock’s words while intoxicated by the Psi 2000 virus, haunting him like the Ghost of Christmas past.

_“Jim, when I feel friendship for you, I'm ashamed.”_

And remembering those words, all of his courage would retreat to that place that courage went whenever crushing disappointment was the only possible outcome for taking a risk in matters of the heart.

If mere friendship caused _that_ sort of reaction, then admitting to full blown romantic love would probably send the poor Vulcan into cardiac arrest, which wasn’t _exactly_ the reaction one hoped to elicit in the prospective love of their life. 

Or even their worst enemy.

No matter how many times Bones waxed poetic on how resilient the human heart was, (and his good friend the Doctor was awfully fond of the sound of his own voice) Jim had a definite urge to keep his in one piece. Risking it with the odds stacked so heavily against his favor didn’t seem particularly wise or conducive towards what little bit of survival instinct he actually possessed, considering his occupation. 

All starship captains were tacticians by trade, anyone who thought differently was deluding himself, and any tactician worth his salt knew when to keep his hand close to his chest. 

When forced with a choice between Jim and his upbringing, Jim was certain Spock would choose the latter. He knew his friend that well. It was Spock’s habit to retreat into himself whenever things got too emotional for him, his Vulcan mask of indifference firmly in place like an impenetrable coat of armor. And where would that leave them? Most likely with their friendship ruined and their effectiveness as a command team shattered. 

There were feasibly worse fates, Jim was certain, but the fact that he couldn’t think of many he chose to take as a rather poignant sign. 

Jim turned to face forward once more, and sighed aloud, unable to stop the more-than-obvious sign of his growing frustration before it happened. _‘Way to show your hand, there, Jim-boy, why not show the entire bridge crew you’re longing after your First Officer again? Give them more to speculate on, why not? You’ve already lost your heart, let’s go for the career too, just to be completely thorough in our masochism. We wouldn’t want to be accused of doing things by halves now, would we?’_

If Fate was a cruel bitch, then Unsolicited Love (especially with someone raised predominantly Vulcan despite a mixed heritage who happened to be his First Officer AND his closest friend) was her psycho younger sister. The kind that sat in the back of the hover car and kept asking “are we there yet?” on replay.That the answer would now and for always be “NO!” was the biggest cruelty of all.

A beep from the communications panel jolted Jim out of his morose thoughts. “Captain,” Uhura’s voice rang firm and musical across the bridge, “I’m receiving a distress call from the mining colony on Janus VI. Apparently they’ve uncovered some sort of creature responsible for human deaths.”

Jim wondered at the state of his mental well-being that news of a murdering mine monster was a welcome distraction.

*****

Chief Engineer Vanderberg was certainly an unpleasant fellow, an impression of Jim’s that only strengthened the longer he, Spock and Bones were in the man’s company. 

Jim had to continuously remind himself that the man had lost fifty men, was facing an unknown terror, and felt the weight of the Federation depending on his mining operations here on Janus VI, which, yes, could knock a person a little off-kilter. 

The trick worked, albeit temporarily. There was only so much “Kill the beast, kill, kill, kill” a guy could take before he became tired of the utter monotony present in such a conversation.

As it was, Jim was only seconds away from exclaiming, _‘Alright, we get it, you want us to kill the beast! As surprising as this may be to you, we got it the FIRST time you said it!_ ’ The will it took to hold back such an exclamation was considerable.

The kicker of the entire affair was that Jim agreed, wholeheartedly, that anything that killed fifty people was indeed a threat of rather massive proportions, and needed to be dealt with as soon as possible. But the part of him compatible with Spock, the explorer within him, wanted answers. What was this creature? What motivated it? What secrets did it hold? Why was it attacking men now, when Janus VI had been colonized and mined by humans for decades? What was that spherical shaped object Spock held in his hands and what role did it play in all of this?

Spock, as he always did, picked up on Jim’s mood instantly, if the tilt of the Vulcan’s head and his raised and questioning eyebrow were any indication. And considering that all of his acting skills had been pretty much used up trying to keep professional while a blood thirsty mining engineer who made the concept of ‘one track mind’ an art form, he wasn’t sure how successful he was at hiding how moved he was by Spock’s ability to read him like a book.

“You are frustrated,” Spock stated, once they were out of earshot of both Vanderberg and McCoy. “I understand why. Chief Engineer Vanderberg is a rather unpleasant individual.”

Jim felt an unquenchable desire to kiss Spock just then, but settled for shooting his First a sardonic grin

“Yes. Quite.”

Spock’s eyes lit with humor at his Captain’s dry tone, and Jim inwardly sighed as the urge to embrace his friend became even more pronounced. So much for deflecting the elephant with sarcasm, his tried and true method of defense in any other situation. 

Being around Spock with his control so tenuous was never a good idea, and he cursed the idea of bringing Spock along on this mission anew, as he always did whenever Spock did something particularly charming and Jim’s will was tested.

Which was pretty much every mission, now that he thought about it. 

It wasn’t exactly like he’d had much of a choice in the matter. If there were any being alive more stubborn than Jim, it was Spock. Another compatibility between them, maddening though it was. There was no force alive that could keep Spock away whenever there was something new to be examined. Jim had learned long ago that standing between Spock and discovery was a rather unpleasant lesson in inertia. 

An admirable trait, certainly, but Jim just wished his libido didn’t feel the same about the ‘admirable’ part of it. 

He deflected his rising desire the only way he knew how when it came to Spock and his want of him, he went into _‘teacher of humanity and its quirky ways’_ mode. _That_ , at least, always worked when all else failed him.

“The chief is afraid, and fear doesn’t exactly bring out the best, nor courageous, traits in a man,” Jim stated, looking at the wall as if he could will the creature through it, get Spock his answers, then kill it and get out of here and on to the next great adventure. 

The irony that Jim was having a conversation regarding fear and motivations wasn’t lost on him and he wondered if Sigmund Freud had possessed a point, all those centuries ago, and if all moments, all conversations, were metaphoric of a man’s chief desires, or in this case, chief concerns surrounding such desires.

It was a mistake to look at Spock just then, to catch intense brown eyes staring Jim down as if they could see through him, but it wasn’t like Jim could help it. His eyes moved of their own accord when it came to Spock, always had. Inertia, indeed. Or perhaps more like a magnetic pull. 

Clearly he’d been hanging around scientists too long if even his internal metaphors were scientific in nature. Clearly.

“Most curious,” Spock stated, and Jim didn’t know to which dilemma Spock was referring, either the nature of man, or Jim’s own foibles, but he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know.

It was better, in this case, to stick with what he did know. He knew there was a creature out there, something new and strange and exotic, killing men left and right. He knew the chief engineer of this mining facility on Janus VI wanted this creature dead, and understandably so, despite the worrying tenacity of such a desire and Jim’s own sad thought of having to kill such a newly discovered species. He also knew that while Spock was on this planet, he was in danger of dying at the beast’s... claws? Fangs? Hands? Feet?... Whatever appendage the thing used.

The thought of Spock in danger, predictably, did not sit with him. At all. At the earliest possible opportunity he had to get Spock off this planet, if he could manage it… He doubted he could. That the thought of Spock’s sly tenacity made Jim smile, if only to himself, was also worrying.

*****

Bones shaking his head exasperatedly when Jim sought him out post-mission didn’t exactly inspire the welcoming, brotherly affection Jim often associated with the good doctor. Though he figured his friend had earned the right to be a bit exasperated because he did, after all, get the short end of the stick: when Jim wanted companionship, he sought out Spock, and when Jim wanted to whine (usually about Spock) he sought out Bones. 

“You’re carrying whiskey, not your preferred poison, which means this is Vulcan-related,” the doctor noted, leaning back in chair, motioning with his hand for Jim to sit down.

“You’re good,” Jim noted, mostly because it was true, but also because he’d learned long ago that the best way to get Bones fired up for a philosophical discussion was to soften him into it first. It was a lesson Spock had yet to learn, and based on the enjoyment his First and Bones both received from bantering back and forth, it was one Jim doubted Spock had any intention of ever learning.

“Damn, right I am,” Bones agreed, assessing Jim as he was poured a drink. “If you’re here to moon, Jimmy, I’m going to need more alcohol than that.”

Jim smiled, and filled Bones’ cup to the brim, leaving his own half empty. 

And if that wasn’t poetic, Jim didn’t know what was.

“Not to moon. To reflect,” Jim corrected, fully aware that, in his case, the two weren’t mutually exclusive. 

And by the dubious expression the doctor was sporting, he could tell that Bones wasn’t fooled either. But his friend chose to placate him for the time being, and Jim felt a sudden swell of affection.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Reflect on what?”

“What doesn’t get put into reports, and how those details, the ones that get left out, sometimes are the ones that make or break a mission,” he announced, wincing slightly as the bitterness of the whiskey burned his tongue. But he needed the distraction, however fleeting. It allowed him to focus on something other than Bones’ penetrating stare.

“Just what happened down there between you and Spock before you called me down to play bricklayer to our friend, the Horta?” the Doctor asked, as Jim had hoped he would. Bones blunt tongue often worked as a fodder to clarify Jim’s thinking... on a good day. On a bad day there was the potential for emotional scarring.

But the simple fact of the matter was, he _had_ to talk about it with someone else. The things he was carrying around in his head weren’t things he could keep stewing over without going a little crazy thinking on them. And thinking on them. And thinking on them some more.

Telling his mind to shut-up and having it listen to him wasn’t a particular talent he possessed.

“Spock tried to tell the security team to capture the creature, capture and not kill it. I overrode him, of course. At that time, we didn’t know of her eggs, the reproductive cycle of her species, or what the miners had done in their ignorance.” 

Bones nodded at that, the sorrow Jim felt reflected in his face. What they’d almost done by killing the mother Horta, who was only protecting her remaining eggs from the miners who had already crushed many unknowingly, would have wiped out an entire species from existence. 

Nearly making a species go extinct was not an action easily swallowed, certainly. 

“At that point I tried to order Spock to help Scotty with the circulation pump, keep him safe and out of trouble, but he started quoting the probability of us both getting killed by the Horta and I couldn’t think of an argument, logically, that would justify my ordering him to go,” Jim smiled slightly at the memory, still bemused that he’d been so easily swayed by Vulcan logic.

Well, Vulcan logic and the fact that Jim was a love sick idiot.

Bones snorted, clearly bemused himself. “He got to you.”

“He did,” Jim nodded, not knowing if he should laugh, as fools in love were wont to do, or kick himself in the teeth for being a stereotype. 

The last thing he ever wanted to be was _cliché_.

“Well, it’s a good thing Spock did stay down there, right?” Bones’ asked, ever the voice of reason. “I mean, he was able to communicate with the thing, we were able to put two and two together and get thousands of baby Hortas out of the deal. Mama Horta agreed to stop her killing spree. The miners get Horta-made tunnels, which saves them a ton of work. Everyone’s happy.”

And this was one of the reasons Jim was so fond of his friend. Bones was giving him an out. _‘It’s okay that you acted like a kid with a rather obvious crush because it worked out in our favor in the end. Everything’s fine. That status quo you so fear interrupting has not been irrevocably damaged.’_ Except Jim couldn’t let it go that easily. And Bones didn’t have the whole story... yet.

“Yes, Spock was able to communicate with it, but only after he had expressed a desire for me to kill it, quickly, because it made the cardinal sin of crossing my path.”

Jim could see the transformation overcome Bones’ face as that sunk in, could see the light dawn. He wanted to laugh at that too and wondered if he was possibly going a little loopy. Perhaps there was a little Psi 2000 still left in him, or maybe he was just that cliché after all. It was a toss-up as to which of those possibilities was more disturbing.

“Well I’ll be damned, that walking computer had an emotional reaction. A strong one. Hell, forget strong, an _obvious_ one.”

It wasn’t phrased as a question, but Jim whispered, “Yes” anyway because they both knew what that meant. Though unintentional, Spock had given Jim some rather blatant encouragement, Jim couldn’t get it out of his mind, and all in all it was the last thing he, or this ship, needed.

And when Bones gave him that look, that patented _‘I’m about to say something I’m not entirely sure you’re going to like’_ , Jim felt his heart sink further.

“Jim, you ever think that maybe, if Spock were able to push aside his principles in order to ensure your safety – an action I’m sure that green-blooded database has analyzed up one side and down the other since it happened – that perhaps he’s not as immune to you as you’ve previously thought?” 

Jim looked away from his friend’s thoughtful expression, unable to take it just then, unable to handle the onslaught of further encouragement. This isn’t what he came to Bones for. Bones was meant to clear his head, not mess it up further.

“I would have never thought it at the start of this thing, wouldn’t have thought him capable, but it’s becoming increasingly obvious that Spock has feelings for you, Jim,” Bones continued earnestly. “It’s as plain as day. And if he wasn’t fully aware of his feelings before, he certainly is by now. I’m sure the situation with the Horta made things as clear as an Andorian crystal to him.”

Bones halted as Jim shook his head, overwhelmed by a flash of a flash of despondency threatening to sink its claws into his psyche. If there was one thing Jim hated, it was despondency. It just wasn’t _productive_. 

Its presence made him angry. 

He wanted to believe Bones, oh how he wanted to, but Jim simply could not entertain the thought of doing something immensely foolish, he _couldn’t_. And here Bones was _encouraging_ it. It was better to have Spock as a friend than to not have him at all. It was better that the Enterprise and her crew have Spock as their first officer than to have someone less deserving. And it was safer to Jim’s state of mind if he didn’t ponder the ‘what-ifs’, even if he couldn’t help but do so anyway.

“I’m not going to be that guy, Bones,” he told his friend, standing up to pace the room. “I’m not going to be the guy who expects a partner to change for him, who goes into the relationship thinking, ‘oh yeah, they’re going to alter who they are, ignore how they were raised, because they love me so much’. Life doesn’t work that way. Relationships don’t work that way – not the healthy ones, anyway. We both know that! You and I come from a culture where love is purported to conquer all, as heavily romanticized as that notion is. Spock comes from a culture where love is an inconvenience at best and considered a tasteless influence at worst.”

 _‘And Spock is ashamed of his feelings of FRIENDSHIP,’_ he wanted to add, but didn’t because... because... because it wasn’t such an awful thing that Bones held out hope for Spock and him coming together even as Jim could not allow himself to do the same. 

It was an immensely disquieting thought.

Bones sighed, then shot Jim a look of obvious concern. “I think what you’re forgetting here, Jim, is that Spock is not of one culture but two. His mother is human. Do you think she would have been satisfied in a loveless marriage? Would she have had Spock, brought him into the universe, if she had? I may not be a fan of their philosophy, but I don’t believe the Vulcans have obliterated love. More importantly,” Bones added conspiratorially, “I’m almost certain Spock is fully capable of it, despite what I might say whenever he’s around to hear it. I see him with you, and I know he’s capable.”

A beautiful sentiment, one Jim wanted to believe, would kill to believe it, but pretty words could not banish serious doubts, and it was a fool who allowed them to do so. 

Bones must have seen his hesitancy...

“To be honest, Jim, I don’t think the problem here anymore is Spock, but you.”

If looks could kill Bones would be as dead as the men that encountered an angered Horta. Jim put extra work into his glare, made sure it was as piercing as he could possibly make it. The nerve, the audacity, the utter gall...

…Typical Bones, actually.

“Jim, you never have liked to walk into a situation where there was a chance you could lose. Look at how you handled the Kobayashi Maru, and that was a hypothetical situation! What you stand to lose here is tremendous, I’ll give you that, but I’ve never considered you to be a man afraid to take a risk. Think about it.”

Yet what Bones failed to understand was that lately, when it came to Spock, Jim thought of little else, save the running of his ship. He wished he could think of something else.

The problem was that no creative workaround could be applied. It was all or nothing. And ‘all’ was not something he could reasonably ask Spock to give. 

He wasn’t even sure he could ask it of himself.

*****

Five steps away from Bones’ office, and Jim thought maybe he should talk to Spock after all. Even if Spock didn’t want a romantic relationship despite returning Jim’s feelings, perhaps with this honesty between them they could work something out. If not a relationship then a way to move on, together, friendship intact.

Ten steps away from Bones’ office and their conversation orbiting Psi 2000 once again reared its ugly head and Jim remembered his pride. It might be arrogant, stubborn, wasteful, or whatever else one called pride, but at times it had been the only companion Jim had had, and it was one that had helped him through life: through famine and genocide, through his time as a plebe at the Academy where he had been the target of a bully, and his time as a junior officer when he’d been unquenchably thirsty, forever longing, for more. 

The fact of the matter was that Spock had admitted he was ashamed of his feelings of friendship, and it caused a sick feeling in Jim’s gut to be the cause of _shame_. 

Five steps further and Jim entertained the thought that maybe Spock had grown past his previous hang-ups. It had been months since Psi 2000, after all. Maybe Spock was able to confront his feelings at last or was, at the very least, more willing to try. Perhaps the incident with the Horta had caused an epiphany. At the very least Jim owed his friend the benefit of the doubt. 

Ten steps away from the doorway to his quarters and he remembered what it felt like when Carol had told him that she was pregnant and leaving him, because she didn’t want to parent with someone whose first love would always be the stars and didn’t want their child exposed to that kind of life, either. He remembered Ruth’s disappointment that the thought of a white picket fence, two children and a cat and a dog gave Jim honest to God _hives_ , a sentiment she’d expressed quite clearly as she’d shoved his ring back in his hand. And he remembered the tombstone Gary had made in his honor, determined to bury Jim beneath it - a situation made worse by the fact that the sonofabitch hadn’t even managed to get Jim’s middle initial correct while going about it.

But Spock? Spock was... more. He and Spock wanted the same things out of life. Spock made him laugh, made him think, challenged him in all the good ways. Jim liked the person he became whenever he was with Spock, liked that he didn’t feel he had to alter who he was to live up to a prospective partner’s standards. It would hurt like _hell_ to be rejected by him. Jim wasn’t entirely certain he’d survive it the way he had with the others. The pain of it would be more pronounced, more crushing, though he’d do his best to put on a good show...

One step into his quarters revealed Spock waiting patiently for him to arrive, the expression on the Vulcan’s face indicating, quite clearly, that he was ready to banish some elephants.

In all of the thousand scenarios Jim had played in his head since he’d first noticed his feelings for his First went beyond comrades, beyond brothers-in-arms, he’d never envisioned Spock being the one to come to him. And he couldn’t help but wonder if there was some failure on his part as a captain and as a friend that the most prominent feeling he felt just then was _relief_.

It would be an insult to Spock to pretend that this conversation was to be anything other than what it was, so he wouldn’t even try.

“You have more courage than I,” he said, and even though he’d had a drink in his hand not ten minutes before, he headed straight to his bar to pour another one. Liquid courage never failed him, though this time, at least, his glass was half full.

“That is not at all true,” Spock said at last. “You are the most courageous man I know.” And even though Jim wasn’t facing Spock, couldn’t, just then, he could feel those dark eyes delving holes into his back.

“Courageous when it comes to facing down a silicon entity who killed fifty men and secretes acid?” he asked with a snort. “Maybe. Courageous when it comes to... other things? Not so much, no. You deserve someone less... complicated.” It killed him to say it, but it was the truth. “You’re the last person in the galaxy I’d ever want to hurt,” he continued, not so much emboldened as he was determined, “and yet, when it comes to this kind of thing, I’m no less inhibited than you are – at least when it matters, when my heart is involved.”

Jim tried to keep the irony out of his tone as he said it, because what kind of psychotic individual tells the love of their life that they should look elsewhere? Who does that? But he was tired of ignoring things, tired of pretending, out and out sick of living with that fucking elephant. If he was going to be honest, he was going to put it _all_ out on the table. There was no sense in doing things by halves. 

Spock had to know what he was getting himself into.

“There is no one better suited for me than you,” Spock announced with such certainty, such steadfast _belief_ , that Jim had to put his drink down, and place his palms flat against the counter to prevent himself from trembling. “You don’t think I’ve looked? I didn’t enter the Academy intending to stay separate from humankind. In fact, it was my original intention to acclimate. Yet I never felt like I belonged with the human half of my ancestry any more than I’d felt welcomed amongst my Vulcan half... until I met you.”

And that was... that was... there was nothing Jim could say to that that would be remotely adequate. His knees wanted to buckle and he’d silently cursed them if they so much as _dared_ turn him into some kind of wilting flower. 

When he thought he could accomplish it he turned around, met those beloved eyes for the first time that evening and whispered “Spock.” A sudden force, his romantic nature would call it gravity but was likely more a mixture of desire, want, and exasperatingly crazy love, propelled him forward and he took his friend in his arms and rocked up onto the balls of his feet in order to press his lips firmly against Spock’s own.

For a moment they stood there like that, their lips pressed together, neither one moving except for Jim’s gentle shaking. In Jim’s mind he was trying to calm down, trying to get the room to stop seeming like it was spinning, trying to insert some logic into this as opposed to being the quivering mass of instinct and emotion and _feeling_ that he currently was, before deciding it was all absolutely ridiculous. When it came down to it, he couldn’t _control_ this and, for the first time in his adult life, he didn’t want to.

He wanted to let himself go.

There was nothing wrong with being a quivering mass of instinct, emotion and feeling. Hadn’t he been telling Spock that since the day they had met? In fact, it felt _wonderful_. Best he’d felt in a very long time, if ever.

He brought their bodies flush against each other, allowing no space for even air between them, and turned their kiss into one that involved teeth, and tongue, grabbing handfuls of Spock’s tunic in closed fists to hang onto him as tightly as he could.

It wasn’t enough. He wanted to pull Spock into himself, and since such a notion went against the laws of physics, he settle for getting as close as was feasibly possible for two people to get.

“I want you.” He tore his mouth away, giving them both the opportunity to breathe.

“That is fortunate. Our goals are aligned.” Spock was panting.

Jim thought Spock breathless irredeemably sexy and felt his groin stiffen further – a pretty remarkable feat considering he had already been uncomfortably hard.

“Bed?” Jim asked, and if there was an edge of uncertainty to his voice, more than he’d like to be there, he didn’t let allow himself to dwell on it. He was secure in the knowledge that Spock would never ever exploit it, and to have that amount of trust in another individual, when Jim natural inclination was not to trust _anybody_ , at least until they proved they _could_ be trusted, was freeing.

Spock took a step back, slowly, as if hesitant to move away, a feeling Jim could certainly reciprocate, and held out his hand. 

Jim took it without any hesitation at all.

Together, with Spock walking backwards, and Jim forward, they moved towards Jim’s bed until the back of Spock’s knees hit the edge of it, and he sat down, pulling Jim’s hand until they were eye level, and Spock kissed him with a ferocity Jim hadn’t been aware the Vulcan possessed.

He should have known better. Oh how he should have known better... a thought he contemplated for all of two seconds before a gentle lick to his bottom lip indicated Spock’s tongue wanted in, and Jim’s brain ceased to function at all beyond a blinding flurry of need.

Somewhere in the space between _‘good, so good’_ and _‘more’_ Spock’s arms went around him, and he maneuvered them both until they were laying on the bed, Spock on top with hips grinding against Jim’s, jolting both them and the bed with his thrusts. And although they were both fully clothed, too impatient in their haste to take time to strip, Jim countered him, wanting closer, needing it harder, feeling like he could crawl out of his skin with pleasure. 

From one moment to the next things built between them as they moved against one another, neither able to slow down until Spock, with a will Jim admired with a whole new level of smitten devotion, did stop, lips still fused to Jim’s, as he reached down between them and flicked open button of Jim’s pants, undid the zipper and reached inside. Jim’s back arched when he felt a hot hand engulf the sensitive flesh of his cock and as much as he wanted to lose himself, as much as he wanted to just let go and let Spock take care of him, he wanted Spock _with_ him in this as he wanted Spock with him always.

So he reached with trembling, fumbling hands for Spock in much the same fashion as Spock had reached for him, dug in, and found his prize.

Later, when the rush of lust wasn’t as pronounced, their combined need to affirm the physicality of their relationship not so pressing, Jim would explore, would memorize the color, shape and beauty of Spock so wonderfully exposed. 

Not this time. Patience was highly overrated.

Spock groaned when Jim brought their cocks together, released a deep breath as Jim took them both in hand, their fingers entwining over their erections as they started to move this way. 

And just before Jim reached that peak of ecstasy, just before he whited-out, vision swarming with sparkling lights that flashed like the distant stars, Spock pressed another kiss against his mouth, and they swallowed each others’ shouts of completion.

*****

He was sticky, clothing rumpled beyond all repair, and in desperate need of a shower (or two) but he found himself utterly disinclined to move. Spock lay beside him, an arm thrown over Jim’s chest, thigh nestled between Jim’s two, the rhythm of Spock’s breathing lulling Jim into a calm and quiet state of peace.

Jim thought the moment perfect, which meant, inevitably, that it had to end, as the truly remarkable moments always did. All-too-soon, he knew, someone from Starfleet would contact them, a new mission would be assigned, a distress call could again make its way through the void of space, and he and Spock would once again be out there, risking their lives.

And as much as he coveted this quiet here with Spock, tired and warm and loved, it occurred to him he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I believe the answer,” came the passion-hoarse baritone, “is that we create more perfect moments to carry us through all others.”

Jim snorted. “Reading my mind, Spock?” He was amused at the romantic sentiment expressed so brazenly from the man most assumed to be incapable of sentimentality at all. “And is that a challenge?” he teased, turning onto his side to, head propped up by his hand and elbow, as he smiled down at his friend, now lover. 

“If you wish,” Spock replied, voice bland, but a telltale twinkle present in his eyes.

Jim chuckled, then leaned down to claim Spock’s lips with his own, still too tired from their previous exertions to take it any further, just then, but certainly willing to give it the ole’ Academy try.

As for the rest of it, he was certain he and Spock would handle it as it came. 

With gusto.

The End


End file.
